


Close Quarantined

by DadchiNSFW



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Cockwarming, First Time, I just really love a good mess, M/M, hqnsfwbb, pandemic fic, quarantine fic, slight Breeding Kink, unrealistic amounts of come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 21:15:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30095235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DadchiNSFW/pseuds/DadchiNSFW
Summary: Happy NSFW Big Bang! Have some Bokuto/Kenma as a treat.You can find Mars’ outstanding accompanying art at https://twitter.com/mars_is_dummy/status/1372245788357750790?s=21
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 56
Collections: Haikyuu!! NSFW Big Bang 2021





	Close Quarantined

“Kuro you can’t be serious.” _Please let this be another one of your stupid pranks._ Except it had been years since Kuroo had pulled a prank of this magnitude. Kenma could only pray as he paced the hallway, phone clutched to his ear. 

“It’s just for tonight! I’ll be home tomorrow. Just one night. You just have to keep him entertained for one night” The desperation in the older man's voice was evident. If looks could kill, Kuroo was lucky this wasn’t a video call. He knew exactly what kind of expression Kenma would be giving him, down to the last furrow of his brow. He was glad to have the whole of the Pacific Ocean shielding him from his best friend’s ire.

“I can put him up in a hotel.”

“Kenma! Bokuto’s our friend! He should feel at home in his hometown and I can’t have him catching this virus so close to the Olympics. You have the space. Just put him up in my room; you won’t even notice he’s there.”

Flashbacks to high school migraines threatened. “I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to ignore his presence.”

“Kenma.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tell him not to show up before noon. I’m not waking up to let him in.”

“Thank you. I owe you.”

A harsh exhale was the only acknowledgment Kuroo got before Kenma tapped off his phone. Times like these made him miss the satisfying ‘click’ of flip phones.

-

12:00PM on the dot. Kenma cracked his eyes open, glaring at the time on his cell phone. The blackout curtains did a marvelous job of hiding the hour; he could almost believe he didn’t hear what he thought he heard.

The staccato ‘rap rap rap’ echoed through the house again, this time followed by a muffled but unmistakable “Kenma!!”

He took his sweet time shuffling to the bathroom, grabbing his robe, and shuffling across the house to the front door. Muted sunlight filled the house. Having heard the bedroom door open, the cats came running to his feet. They threatened to trip him with every step down to the entrance. 

The door latch was too loud in the quiet foyer. “Did you--”

“I was excited, so I got here early!” The door hadn't even fully opened when burly arms swept Kenma into the air. “It’s hard to be patient when your best friend’s best friend is just beyond the door.”

Kenma jabbed his elbows and palms, wiggling his way out of Bokuto’s embrace. “What time did you get here?” He stood aside to make room for the larger man and his luggage.

“8:30, 9? I’m not sure, but your neighbor lady is really nice. She brought me juice.”

“You’ve been waiting outside for three hours.”

“No! No, I helped the lady with some yard work in return for the juice.”

Kenma nodded slowly, not exactly surprised. Apparently Bokuto hadn’t changed much since high school. “Kuro’s room is through here. There’s an attached shower; you stink.” With a dismissive gesture down the hallway, Kenma shuffled back to his game room.

“Okay…” Bokuto knew better than to expect a big, joyful reunion with the Nekoma setter, but he’d at least expected more than that. It was fine. He was fine. Kuroo would be in tomorrow, the perfect bridge between the two men.

His heart swelled at the thought of his old friend. Stepping into his room, everything was so predictably “Kuroo” that he might as well have stepped into the man’s high school bedroom. It felt like his old home away from home. The room was just tidy enough but it was far from pristine. Sure, there wasn’t a pile of dirty laundry on the floor, but the desk chair was overrun by sweatshirts and a lost sock peeked out from under the bed. A Women’s Beach Volleyball calendar hung over the desk, which was covered by orderly stacks of files.

Bokuto threw himself on the bed, wincing as a hidden phone charger stabbed his shoulder through the sheets. He could be so comfortable here. If only the recluse down the hall didn’t dread his existence.

Wait-- this was his chance! Bokuto sat up with a start, beaming. He would only be here today and tomorrow-- this was his chance to win Kenma over! Kuroo would be so surprised when he came home tomorrow to find out they’d become friends. A couple of quick taps on his phone and his plan was set in motion. 

The first step was to rinse off in the shower, avoiding his hair at all costs. His hair had to remain perfect for the interview tomorrow and he hadn't bothered to pack extra product. Pouring Kuroo’s shower gel into his hands, Bokuto was reminded of a nature documentary he’d seen. The host had used the animal’s pheromones to hide his own scent so that the animals would trust him. Smelling like Kenma’s best friend couldn’t hurt. 

The only clothes he packed were the nice interview clothes Akaashi had picked out for him. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a tank from Kuroo’s closet, Bokuto laughed to himself. He should write a book. How to Befriend Kenma. Step 1: Camouflage as Kuroo.

His phone buzzed on the bed. Bokuto dashed through the hallway and lunged for the front door before the doorbell could ring. The delivery boy on the front step checked his order before unloading two shopping bags into Bokuto’s arms. Step 2 of How to Befriend Kenma: Lure Him Out With Food.

It took some wandering around the house to find the kitchen. And some wandering around the kitchen to find the utensils. Donburi was easy enough. He didn’t remember Kenma being a picky eater, just bird-like. He was still a man, after all, and the quickest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.

The moment the garlic hit the hot butter it was only a matter of seconds until Bokuto heard the tell-tale creak of Kenma’s door. The still bleary-eyed man peeked around the corner, “smells good.”

“It’s just garlic so far, but it’ll be good.” Bokuto turned to serve a confident smile, freezing to take in the site of the man shuffling towards the kitchen. Bo had seen Kenma-- he could swear he’d seen Kenma recently. In retrospect, he saw pictures from Kuroo and maybe some videos online. He’d only seen Kenma from the shoulders up on tiny digital screens for years.

Kenma in the flesh was a different story. He’d grown, limbs lengthening and losing their athletic bulk. His freshly brushed hair still hung loose about his shoulders. He could almost pass for a pretty girl. But the sharp cut of his jaw, the power demanded from those golden eyes, and the broad set of his shoulders left no doubt.

The timid shell of boyhood was behind him. Kenma had grown into a man to be reckoned with.

Definitely. Definitely grown. Bokuto cleared his throat as he pushed vegetables into the hissing pan. Step 3 of How to Befriend Kenma should probably include something about ignoring how those sweatpants hugged Kenma’s thighs. Or the way his collar bones teased from under his t-shirt. Probably best to ignore how precious it was when he curled his bare toes, exploring the texture of the rug. Honestly, it was probably best to just not look at him. It was time to add the steak anyway.

“You didn’t have to cook, there’s a convenience store on the corner. They have decent bentos.”

“You can’t be living off of convenience store food. Please don’t tell me you leave this beautiful kitchen unused.”

“You sound like Kuro,” Kenma peered over Bokuto’s shoulder. “He scolds me and cooks whenever he’s home. But then he also gets upset at any dirty dishes left in the sink.”

Bokuto could feel Kenma’s breath warm against his ear. “Well, yeah. Mold isn’t good for your lungs.”

Kenma huffed in annoyance. The heat disappeared from Bokuto’s back as the smaller man wandered off. The clatter of Kenma taking a seat was a relief. Bokuto was able to finish cooking without a pair of predatory eyes drilling into him. Kenma’s focus fell solely on the game in his hands.

Peace fell across the home. Even when Bokuto served their bowls, little more than a polite hum was exchanged.

They got through most of the meal before the staccato buzz of a phone broke the silence. Kenma glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey… no, no, Kotarou made food… He’s fine-- wait, no--”

The sudden panic in Kenma’s voice caused Bokuto to drop his chopsticks. He tried to not be too obvious in his eavesdropping, but it was hard when his companion paled.

“Kuro-- hold on, I know some private charters-- they can’t do that, let me call-- Kuro. Can you layover in Seoul? ...the whole country? You can’t hop over to Mexico and try from there? … Kuro-- Hold on, I’ll message some people.” Kenma hung up, Kuro’s voice cutting short as he continued to argue over the speaker. 

“Everything okay?”

It took Kenma a few minutes to respond as he typed furiously on the device. “Kuro said they won’t let him leave the country. Something about the virus. No one is accepting flights out of the United States.”

“Oh… for how long?”

“He said at least two weeks.”

“Two weeks? But I have a game-- oh no,” Bokuto’s heart dropped as he opened his own phone.

“Your game’s been cancelled. Shouyo just emailed me.” It was hard not to be hurt by Kenma’s defeated sigh. “All large events are cancelled for the next 30 days.”

Bokuto whipped out his own phone. Sure enough, a text from Meian confirmed it. Bokuto felt his heart drop, uneasiness rising in his throat. “Kenma, can I--”

“You’ll be staying here, yes.”

“I can ask Akaashi--”

“Keiji lives in a tiny studio apartment. Kuro’s room is empty. Don’t argue with me.” Kenma shoved off from the table, suddenly feeling socially drained. 

Bokuto sat in silence, watching Kenma retreat to his room, trying to process everything that just happened. He’d be here. Alone with Kenma. For at least two weeks. And the other man was already tired of him. 

-

Nobody would do as he said. Nothing frustrated Kenma nearly as much as the lack of effort others put forth for him. After he’d loaned a fellow Youtuber the money he needed for his house in LA, the guy wouldn’t even try to use his charter plane to get Kuro home. He wouldn’t even look into it. It would be easy enough for Koji, one of the Bouncing Ball partners, to take his boat into international waters and let Kuro launch from there, but again, Kenma was blown off. Someone else could bail Koji out next time the national guard handed him a fee.

Kuro. That was a disappointment, too. The man heard “no international flights” and gave up. When they were kids he always thought Kuro could do anything. That grin and charm could get them in or out of any situation. Yet he made zero effort to come home to Kenma. He was fine with being away for god-knows-how-long.

The biggest disappointment was Bokuto. Kenma opened his home to the man and he automatically tried to bail as soon as he could? As soon as he heard he’d have to spend time alone with Kenma? Figures. He was only here for Kuro anyway. And Kuro didn’t care about coming home.

Of course.

It was fine.

He couldn’t burrow any deeper into his bed. There weren’t enough pillows to crush his broken pieces back together. The weighted blanket was all the way on the floor. It would take too much effort to climb out, get it, and then resituate himself.

Kuro had to know-- Kuro always knew. He knew when Kenma was upset. He knew that the best cure was to just… lay across the comforter on top of him. Kenma missed his solid weight. He felt completely untethered. 

Sleep wouldn't take him. He spent several hollow hours praying someone, anyone, would make an effort for him, until he realized: someone already did.

-

Bokuto promised himself he’d never do this again. He made that promise a long time ago. Yet here he was, pretending he didn’t exist. Akaashi would be so disappointed in him, but he didn’t want Kenma to hate him.

It was just two weeks. In two weeks Kuroo would be here to bridge the gap. It had been way too ambitious of him to try to bridge it himself. Stupid. Kuroo was the only one who could really connect with Kenma. The smaller man was just too high above him.

At least Kuroo had a nice bedroom. It wasn’t a terrible place to hide.

For two weeks.

There was some manga series he hadn’t read in years. Nostalgic Kuroo. He only stocked the classics. He could probably binge a good portion of One Piece in two weeks. Propped up on his elbows, Bokuto quickly lost himself in the story. He didn’t even notice the intruder until the bundle of blankets wormed its way against his side. Kenma didn’t make a sound, his face barely visible in the folds of the blankets. Bokuto leaned into the contact, embracing the comfortable silence.

-

The following morning, Bokuto woke up alone. It took him a few moments to realize what was missing-- had Kenma really crawled into bed with him last night? He might have dreamed it. But no, he swore it was real. But if it was real, where was Kenma now? Did he regret showing a moment of weakness? Was it going to get weird?

It took some bravery, but Bokuto peeked his head out the bedroom door. He could hear a TV down the hall. The sound was clear and bright-- Kenma must be in the common room and not hidden behind his bedroom door. Bokuto felt his spirits lift. Kenma wasn’t actively avoiding him. He wasn’t going to be kicked out or rejected yet. 

He stopped into the kitchen to check for evidence that Kenma has eaten; he found none. Throwing together a quick snack tray, Bokuto made his way to the common room. The other man’s eyes barely flickered away from the game on the TV screen. His thumbs danced a tight choreography on the controller even as Bokuto dropped down next to him.

“Gotcha a bite to eat.”

“I can’t eat right now. I’m streaming a speedrun; I can’t pause.”

The intensity of Kenma’s concentration sent shivers down Bokuto’s spine. He remembered the days of facing Kenma from the other side of the volleyball net. Despite his size, that laser-focused gaze could paralyze. Bokuto took a deep breath as he turned his own focus to the TV.

“But this is Breath of the Wild. Doesn’t that take like… 50 hours to finish?”

“Not if you’re good at it.”

Activity on a smaller screen sitting on the ground caught Bokuto’s attention. He recognized the streaming platform. He’d logged in a few times before to watch Kenma’s games. It was one way he could feel “at home” even while traveling. It gave him something to text Kuroo, Akaashi, and Tsukishima about. He refused to let their circle lose touch even after everyone had gone their separate ways.

The chat box on the computer was scrolling quickly. Messages like “Take a break!” and “Please eat something!” ran by as Bokuto read them out loud.

“Guys it’s fine. I’ll be done in the next fifteen minutes.”

Bokuto glanced between Kenma and the TV. “But you’re not even halfway done.”

“The current speedrun record is 26 minutes, 26 seconds, and 867 miliseconds. I’m about ten minutes in, so hopefully I only need another fifteen.”

“Wow, cool!” The larger man tried to temper his excitement, but it was hard not to be impressed. He was, after all, in the presence of _the_ Kodzuken. How many people got to watch the legend perform live?

Kenma finished the game nearly as quickly as he had hoped, coming up two seconds short. Frustrated, he immediately started on another run through. 

“Here,” Bokuto lifted a dumpling from the plate to Kenma’s mouth. It wasn’t until he felt the plush of Kenma’s lips brush against his fingertips that Bokuto realized he might have done something weird. Kenma didn’t notice. His attention remained trained on the screen.

The day spun on as Kenma achieved faster and faster times. Never satisfied, he kept fighting on. Bokuto watched, entranced, taking the occasional break to feed them both. Afternoon turned into evening turned into night when Kenma threw down the controller with a whoop of celebration.

“26, 19,” Kenma sighed. He collapsed back onto the couch next to Bokuto, “finally.” He closed his eyes, his breath leveling out into quite huffs. Bokuto nudged him gently. The smaller man was genuinely asleep. His lithe body swayed before he fell against Bokuto’s side. Bokuto had no choice but to make himself comfortable while Kenma nuzzled into his shoulder. It wasn't long until he succumbed to the nap as well.

-

It took some dancing, but after a few days the two men fell into an amiable routine. The neighborhood was nice; Bokuto rose with the sun every morning for the most scenic jogging route he’d ever had. Kuroo’s shower had better water pressure than most hotels. It sucked that he couldn’t style his hair, but at least he could relax his muscles while washing away the sweat. 

Kenma couldn’t complain about waking up to a home cooked lunch. Bokuto was surprisingly pleasant. He smiled to himself as he cooked, often mumbling songs to himself under his breath. It was a new side of the man-- different from the boisterous volleyball player without being contradictory. 

Bokuto grew in sync with Kenma’s quiet as Kenma willingly sought out his company around the house. Kenma didn’t need to be in the room when Bokuto was cooking, reading, or watching TV, but it was pretty much guaranteed that he would be following the volleyball player around the house like a lost duckling. To be completely honest, Bokuto wasn’t sure Kenma realized he did it. The smaller man’s eyes never left an electronic screen. He was on autopilot and whatever program his subconscious was running decreed that he needed Bo.

There was a morning when Bokuto slept in a bit too late. He didn’t have time for his post-workout shower before he heard Kenma moving about in the next room. Luckily the smaller man didn’t seem to notice his sweat-soaked t-shirt-- or if he did notice, he didn't mind it. Bokuto supposed that years of high school sports followed by sponsoring athletes had made Kenma immune to athletic funk.

Lunch was served, dishes taken care of. Bokuto’s sweaty clothes had dried with an increasingly uncomfortable crustiness. Per usual, Kenma trailed behind him on autopilot, plopping down on Kuroo’s bed as Bokuto got ready for his shower. It wasn’t until he’d slipped off his briefs and turned to grab his towel that he noticed Kenma’s flushed face, wide eyes staring straight ahead but not entirely seeing.

“Kenma? Are you okay?” He took a step towards the other man.

Kenma nodded blankly. The tell-tale beeping of 'game over' snapped his attention back to his phone. He furiously tapped to start a new round. 

Bo shrugged and continued to the shower. Kenma was a man of mystery that he couldn’t hope to understand.

-

Naked-- he was _naked._ Just… unashamedly. Right in front of him. When Kenma’s brain finally processed what had transpired, he did what he always did when something surprised him: text Shouyo. 

> K: I saw Koutaro naked.
> 
> S: Who hasn’t?
> 
> K: What’s that supposed to mean?

His mind spun circles with the idea that Bokuto might have one of those thirst twitter accounts and the possibilities that lay within. 

> S: He always gives the team naked pep talks. He doesn’t put on his uniform until the last second
> 
> S: He says that vulnerability is inspiring
> 
> S: I think he just likes to show off
> 
> S: Which is funny because I think Sakusa is bigger but nobody can ever catch him naked long enough to tell
> 
> K: I don’t need to know more, thank you

Volleyball. Of course. He didn’t miss the machismo of locker rooms; he was much happier on the financial side of things.

The squealing of the shower pipes brought him back to attention. He had to get out of here before a very naked-- a very _wet and naked_ Kotarou came back. Kenma dashed out the door and back to his room faster than he’d ever run in recent memory.

-

That was the start of Kenma _noticing_ Bokuto. In the evenings he _noticed_ how the other man’s arms bulged against his sleeves. He was borrowing one of Kuroo’s shirts. Kenma knew how loose those sleeves usually fit. He couldn’t help but take note of how form-fitting Kuroo’s shorts were on Bokuto’s thighs. It was inescapable that he knew how much of the bulge in those sweatpants was Bokuto’s phone in his pocket.

He tried to focus on the TV program, but he was suddenly aware of how Bokuto’s scent enveloped him. For the past week, it had been masked under Kuroo’s clothes. What had started out as nostalgic and familiar had morphed into something new and exciting. 

Dinner consisted of steak, vegetables, and wine delivered from Kenma’s favorite restaurant. It had been a mistake to think that the bottle of wine could dissolve his nerves. It was taking too much concentration just to keep his glass from sloshing; there was no way Kenma had the presence of mind to keep his nose out of Bokuto’s shoulder.

It felt like an eternity had gone by as Kenma basked in the heat radiating off of the larger man. Slowly, as if he could get away without Bokuto noticing, Kenma let his eyes take in Bokuto’s form up close.

To his credit, Bokuto tried his best to remain unphased. The more he pretended not to notice Kenma’s attention, the braver the smaller man became. The heat increased as Kenma shifted closer.

This was… unprecedented. He could feel Kenma’s lips, soft and wet, trailing along the collar of his sweatshirt. Confident, small hands pushed for access to skin between the hem and the waist of his sweatpants. Sure he was drunk but he wasn’t _wasted_. He was sure Kenma was fully aware as well. There was no way to hide the hum of excitement under his skin as all blood flooded south. 

Kenma’s hands were warm, but Bokuto still gasped as fingernails traced across his stomach. More of that. His body screamed out for more of that. Before he knew it, he was pulling his sweatshirt and t-shirt off as one. Kenma wasted no time groping for Bokuto’s chest and shoulders, moving to straddle the man. Bokuto took advantage of the movement to pull Kenma’s sweater over his head.

Skin on skin. 

He held the smaller man to him, savoring the gasp he pulled from Kenma’s lips as they kissed. Hips ground against hips as both men fought to keep their heads above the ecstasy. Bokuto ran his palms up Kenma’s sides, thumbs pausing to tease nipples before Bokuto found just the right grip. He rose from the couch with Kenma’s legs locked around his hips. Without pausing in his desperate claim of Kenma’s neck, Bokuto fumbled for his bedroom. He threw Kenma onto the bed, pinning the smaller man below him. 

Kenma pressed his hands into the plush Bokuto’s ass, pulling the man harder against himself. There was only so much restraint a person could have. Bokuto growled as he buried his face in Kenma’s neck, grinding down mercilessly to make his intention clear. 

“Please.” Vulnerability and desperation felt foreign as the plea escaped Kenma’s throat. Bokuto drank it up. His broad hands pushed the smaller man into submission. Kenma’s shorts slipped from his slim hips with ease. He fumbled for the side table, grabbing a bottle from the drawer and tossing it to Bokuto.

The other man fumbled with the bottle, shooting Kenma a panicked look.

“Don’t overthink it, I just assumed he’d have it,” Kenma reassured.

Bokuto glanced around, “oh-- OH-- this is Kuroo’s room! I just got used to calling it ‘mine.’”

Kenma tried not to laugh. “Then there’s no need to worry. Are you worried? If you’re not comfortable we don’t have to--”

“No! No, I’m perfectly very comfortable. It’s just that-- I’ve never--”

“Ah.”

Bokuto tried not to flinch for fear of Kenma teasing him. To his pleasant surprise, Kenma sat up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. His breath was warm against Bokuto’s ear as he whispered “don’t worry, I’ll show you.”

The red flush of Kenma’s face made Bokuto’s heart ache. Shy, anxious Kenma was on display before him. There was a time he couldn’t hope to dream about getting to know the petite setter who was always hiding in Kuroo’s shadow. Now he had Kenma all to himself, open and vulnerable, fingers tracing slick across his entrance. Kenma shuddered as he breached himself.

Entranced, Bokuto watched as Kenma worked himself open, adjusting the angle and depth of his ministrations. Kenma’s low moan set his blood on fire, every inch of his skin sizzled with need. Seeing the smaller man abandon shame for heady desperation triggered a wildness in him.

One broad hand pushed against Kenma’s chest while the other grasped the smaller man's neglected cock. Bokuto buried his face in Kenma’s neck. He marched a line of open mouthed kisses from his lover’s earlobe to the soft skin of his collarbone.

“Koutaro…”

His mouth preoccupied with exploring, Bokuto responded by tentatively coaxing Kenma to hardness. He savored the way the smaller man squirmed and gasped beneath him. Hot breath against his skin, Bokuto felt like he was melting-- like he needed to melt into Kenma or else he’d combust.

“I’m read-- please, I’m ready.”

Bokuto didn’t need to be told twice. He kicked his sweatpants off, setting himself between Kenma’s slender thighs. Kenma wrapped his arms around Bokuto’s neck, slick fingers leaving wet trails across his shoulders. Bokuto held eye contact as he lined himself up. To his credit, Kenma didn’t look away as the blunt head of Bokuto’s cock nudged against him. 

The larger man shuddered as wet heat embraced him. He hadn’t even had the nerve to imagine it before, but sinking into Kenma felt like ecstasy. He lost himself in the rhythm of long, languid strokes. 

Kenma pulled him close, peppering kisses across Bokuto’s muscular shoulder. He hadn’t realized how empty and incomplete he had felt until he felt full-- so full-- with Bokuto’s girth. Kenma let himself get lost in the other man: the heat of the muscular body draped over him, the warm cinnamon scent of his skin, the taste of salt on his skin. His own cock was trapped between their stomachs. Precome marked the contours of Bokuto’s abdomen as Kenma’s own personal property. _Mine, mine, mine._

Bokuto stilled, hesitating with a grunt. “Kenma, I’m sorry, I’m gonna--”

“Please. Please, I need you to.”

“Are you sure? I’m not wearing a cond-ahm!” His breath left him in a rush when Kenma bucked up into him. 

The smaller man keened as he set his own desperate pace. The first streaks of his release across their stomachs was all the reassurance Bokuto needed. Letting his baser needs take over, Bokuto canted his hips against Kenma. For what felt like an eternity in a heartbeat he felt feral, breeding his mate, pushing his release as deeply into the other man’s body as he could.

One final deep thrust and Bokuto shuddered and collapsed. Neither moved as they struggled to catch their breath. Sweat and seed ran down their skin, soaking the sheets beneath them. They’d almost dozed into sleep before Bokuto realized of just how heavy he was laying on top of Kenma’s delicate frame.

“Sorry-- ah, sorry,” he moved to pull away. Kenma pulled him back before his softening cock could slip free.

“Don’t you dare.”

The whine that admitted from Bokuto’s throat was humbling, his over sensitive length pushing back into Kenma’s heat.

“Kenma, I can’t-- not so soon.”

“It’s fine,” dexterous fingers combed through Bokuto’s hair. “I just don’t want to deal with the mess yet. Stay. Let’s nap. We’ll deal with it when we wake up.”

Bokuto very much doubted he could sleep, but let himself fall lax. His breathing matched Kenma’s as they both drifted off in their haze. 

-

Having Kenma in his arms felt like the most natural thing in the world. The early rays of dawn crept through the blinds. Bokuto felt weightless, blissed out, as his hips chased the remnants of a sweet dream. The moan that escaped his own throat brought him to full consciousness, but it was too late to stop his release. He awoke in horror, realizing that his cock was still nestled in Kenma’s warmth. The fresh mess made his misdeeds obvious.

As if sensing his panic, Kenma stirred beneath him. Golden eyes squinted in the light.

“Lemme up, I need a shower,” was all he grumbled before wiggling out of Bokuto’s arms. Aside from their mutual nudity and the mess adorning Kenma’s tummy and thighs, the smaller man acted as if this were the most normal situation in the world. Bokuto was in awe as he watched the sway of Kenma’s hips before the bathroom door closed in his face. The sound of the shower running woke Bokuto from his daze, bringing him back to the present.

First order of business: wash the sheets. He couldn’t stand the thought of Kuroo finding out what had transpired in his bed. He panicked at the thought of telling Kuroo any part of the events, much less that they had made a mess of his room.

The sheets were hung to dry before Bokuto took the time to set himself to rights. He toweled off with a wet rag and pulled on clean clothes. Kenma could be heard shuffling down the hall before disappearing back into his own bedroom. 

“Hey… Kenma?” Bokuto followed after him, tapping on the bedroom door tentatively. “Do we need to talk? Are you okay?”

The door opened abruptly. “Tired,” was the only explanation Kenma gave, “nap.”

“Okay… have a good nap. I’ll get breakfast started when I get back from my run.”

Kenma nodded before closing the door again.

It was likely the most refreshing morning run Bokuto had been on. The smile plastered on his face felt goofy, but he couldn’t help it. Kenma had been beautiful last night. He had been adorable that morning. He was a series of surprises and fantasies come true-- fantasies Bokuto hadn’t realized he had.

Their life together had already become an easy companionship. Not much changed. Bokuto got up in the morning, ran, showered, and made lunch. They’d binge TV or play games through the afternoon while huddled up on the couch. The only key difference was that they ended every evening in a tangle of limbs in Kenma’s bed. 

The isolation and ritual of the following week gave the two the illusion that they were in their own world. They became enraptured. It hadn’t occurred to them that this was something to inform other people about. Kenma hadn’t even mentioned it to Shoyou.

When he returned home to find his bedroom vacant, Kuroo Tetsuro had a moment of panic. There wasn’t even a duffle bag to hint towards Bokuto’s existence in the house. He swore, if Kenma’s need for peace and quiet put one of his friends and star athletes in the path of this virus… well, he couldn’t stay mad at Kenma for long, but he’d give it a good try.

“Oi! Kenma!” He didn’t even bother removing his suit jacket before barreling down to the other bedroom.

A panicked clattering erupted from the room. “Kuro! Hold on--!”

The warning did nothing to stop him from throwing open the door. “You better not’ve been up all night playin--” To be fair, he had expected to catch Kenma red-handed with his headset still on.

He had not expected to throw open the door to reveal his two best friends butt-naked and scrambling to find pants. Slowly, carefully, as if not to startle them, Kuroo closed the door and walked away.


End file.
